Him and Me
by Kal Lenin
Summary: In his eye, I see his innoncence In his motions, he hides his fear None can see through the clouded depths But, ah Blackwargreymon, I do clearly hear.


5 – 7 – 01

Him and Me

            Said I to him, "Blackwargreymon, why so sad?"

            This he replied: "I search for myself within, but find nothing.  Yet a strange urging tells me to keep looking."

            We observed a moment of silence as we sat there on the grass, staring up at the fluffy clouds passing by.  It was one of those cheerily warm days with a light breeze—the kind of breeze where you don't need a jacket because the wind caresses your skin, and it almost tickles you with pleasure to feel its soft touch.  There, on one side, the digimon, and here on the other side, the human.  The warm smell of the vaporous grass-dew made every lungful of air intoxicatingly sweet.  In the distance, there were birds singing their song of springtime; whatever else lay in the forest and fields was content with watching, or minding their own business.

            "Still looking for your heart?" I asked.

            "What is the heart?" he asked at almost the exact same time.

            We sighed in unison.  I don't know if he even knew I was there.  Was he even there?  I lifted my head from its herbivorous bed of slumber to look at him.  There he was in his pensive glory, stretched out on the warm grass.  He was some ten times my size, but as he lay there, innocently staring at the sky with a look of consternation on his face, he seemed just as delicate as I.  I was strangely taken by an urge to pick him up with two huge hands and hold him close like some infant, and to shield him with all the paternal love in the world.

            He must have sensed my eyes upon him, for he turned his enormous head to return the gaze.  When our eyes made contact, it was clear to me.  I could see inside the depths of that frustrated and tortured soul.  The pain and self-doubt, the answerless questions, the futile attempts to find peace—it was all too familiar to me.  I could see inside him, past the hard exterior of a warrior, into the soft interior of a lost child striving to find guidance and direction.  As I looked at those eyes that stared back at me, I could suddenly feel his pain and his burden, the absolute weight that he, despite his physical strength, could not hope to carry—alone.

            Was that what it was then, that look—a cry for help?  Was he trying to reach out to me with this simple gesture common to humans, and even to all life forms alike?  Here was this communication sent across a vast sea of distance, but was I reading the message correctly?  Was this an invitation across the sea to a foreign land, or merely a message meant for someone else?  A thousand questions and half-answers whirled through my mind in an instant.

            I knew that this moment was a special moment.  It was as if my intuition and my gut instincts were ringing like a fire bell in the night; the sound was clear and distinct.  It was one of those cinematic moments where the audience holds their breath in anticipation.  I knew that whatever happened then would not only shape his perception of me, but his self-perception too.  This was the pivotal moment, the key point in time where the possibilities truly are infinite.  In moments like these, it can make or break a spirit.

            He continued to gaze at me expectantly with what was, perhaps, the faintest flicker of hope.  For a brief moment I did nothing but stare back, but at the last possible dramatic moment, I knew what to do.  It was so clear to me, like the sunlight that breaks through the clouds to guide a ship safely to its harbor.  In this divine moment of inspiration, when this one soul reached out a hand towards mine, I grasped it firmly with the touch of human compassion.

            I smiled.

            A few moments later, the effects of my restorative soaked in, and he, slowly but steadily, smiled back.  I was sitting up at this moment, but couldn't help myself—I reared my head back and gave out a hearty laugh.  Confusion flickered on his face for a moment, but soon he was infected and began to chuckle himself.  There we were, the two of us, human and digimon, laughing on that grassy field.  The birds still chirped, but they were dancing around us then, crying out with joy.  In that moment of reverie, I reached out and touched his knee—that was all I could reach—in a gesture of friendship.

            He was warm.  The pulsating warmth of his body was comparable to a summer heat, yet there lay a coolness inherent in it that was beyond my comprehension.  Perhaps he thought the opposite of me, because as he looked down at me—he was sitting up when I made my friendly gesture—I could sense a kind of shock at his expression.  It dawned on me then, that this was probably as intimate a contact as he'd ever had.  Child he was then, innocent and insecure.  Was that the hint of moisture around his eyes?  I couldn't be sure, but it didn't quite matter then, for I was in complete spiritual communion with him.

            At the exact same time, we both rose.  This time, he smiled first.  As we walked off together, keeping the same pace, we remained in silence.  No words were needed.


End file.
